Sunday, March 31, 2013

EuroDisney on Casual Fridays

Saturday, March 30, 2013

TL; DR

I can't seem to escape delays. I am perennially playing the waiting game with career news and even these money gigs I've been doing for the past year: every one of them has suffered delays. Start dates pushed — one week, two weeks, two more weeks, two more weeks. In some ways, I don't mind the money gigs getting pushed. I miss not being tethered to a 9-5 gig. That's always been the dream. A dream I maintained for a few precious years. Close to my soul and yet so far away; I'm going to go back there someday.

I've sacrificed a lot in the pursuit of this career. Been forced to downsize my living situation, not going out as often, not eating hot meals as regularly. I haven't traveled in ages. There are a lot of basic things that regular people enjoy — things I see evidence of on Facebook every day! — that I... just... don't... do. Not anymore. Not in a while, in any case. And the only way i think i get through it is by believing, "This is all temporary." I'm trying to accomplish something that I dreamed of as a child. And I was sooo close to having it all a few years ago. But whatever I've sacrificed, whatever I'm currently sacrificing: it's only for now. Like going hungry for a night or not sleeping. It's not like you're never going eat again or sleep again. You do what you have to do to survive. A better life is simply... deferred for a little while.

These days, these years, they'll keep me grounded. I will look back in awe at what I lived through, what I lived with, what I lived without. I will tell anecdotes that will make friends shake their heads and laugh; and I'll be able to laugh because it'll be so far away from where I will be.

Right now, though, I'm not laughing. These are the days I clench my jaws and try to map out short term and long term goals. It's a war campaign.

Saturday, March 23, 2013

Paul F. Tompkins with Zach Galifianakis on SPEAKEASY

Friday, March 22, 2013

Nobody Does It Better

Admittedly, it has been a bizarre first week of spring.

I was originally supposed to start the new gig this week but it's since been pushed several *weeks*. Which is all right. Buys me some time to work on some other things and, hopefully, get some promising news from my reps on any number of irons that have been in the fire for too long. Certainly, this week could have been more productive, but it's been productive in its own way. It's all about setting the stage.

My computer has really been threatening to snuff it. It is far past its prime and I've put off properly replacing it for far too long because I've had to be cautious about making large purchases for far too long. My growing concern is that I may not have a choice.

When I block out the world, I really block out the world. It has been an unusually quiet week, all in all. Meditating on larger issues. A week infested with strange dreams.

And look at the time, it's already Friday.

Getting back up to speed. Everything's going to be all right. Things are going to get easier.

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

The Trouble with Cats

If you read this blog regularly — which seems increasingly less likely since it's updated far less frequently than it once was — you may not know that one of my roommates has gone off on an extended holiday, sublet his room to some guy off Craigslist, and left me his cat to take care of for however long he's gone.

Let me set this up slightly...

It's a three bedroom apartment. I've two roommates. #1 is the official owner of the cat. #2 is only here for part of the week but he's a cat person and will take care of the cat whenever he's here. I feed the cat when both of them are gone. I don't keep her company if I can help it.

Now that #1 is out of the equation, his temporary replacement is a guy who keeps his bedroom door shut even when he's not at home, which means this cat suddenly has no access to a significant portion of the world she's accustomed to: #1's bedroom. And she's a cat that craves human connection.

Consequently, when #2 is away for a large swath of the week, this cat comes scratching at my door.

She will meow and scratch at my door for however long it takes to get me to open the door. No matter what obscene hour of the night.

It will start off softly enough to ignore. Meow. Meow. Meow. Then grow a little more desperate with scratches at the door. Then her voice will raise. Meow. Meow. Meow. More scratches. More escalation. Meow. MEOW! MEOW!!!

If I let her in, she will curl up next to me for an hour or so. And then she'll meow to be let out.

An hour later, she'll be outside my door again insisting to be let in again...

I've had enough.

I know people like pets. I used to love pets growing up. But right now, I don't need this.

I realize I set a precedent by letting her into my personal space at all. I don't know if I can unset it, set a new boundary for her, but I'm going to try. It's enough already.

Monday, March 11, 2013

Taxes Taxes Taxes!!!

I did my fucking taxes today, fuckers!

Well, I took a few weeks to sort through a year of receipts and assemble documents that I submitted to my accountant today. So it's basically out of my hands at this point. I'll just have to trust/hope that he can work his CPA magic and sort me out as he has.

After an extended winning streak, I got slaughtered in 2010 and had to pay off what I owed with an installment agreement that I literally JUST finished paying off last month. The feast-&-famine pattern of trying to string together a living in the entertainment industry — at least in the early runway stage of this — can be a righteous bitch when it comes to taxes. I could make a million bucks this year and $300 next year. (Here's hoping for that, anyway.)

Monday, March 04, 2013

Sunshine

The context is a blur at this hour. I was removing Sunshine from one cage and placing her into another, I think. While thinking that it had been a while since I'd seen Sunshine, or thought about Sunshine, and marveling that she was still alive after all this time as I didn't recall feeding her for over 20 years.

As I placed her in her new home, I think I was holding her a little too tightly... and one of her wings broke off and fell to the bottom of the cage.

I thought, "Whoa... is she going to be able to grow another one of those...?"

And that's all I remember. A feeling of guilt that I'd forgotten to take care of her for so long. And further guilt that I'd hobbled her.

For the record, we had a series of canaries when I was a kid, but Sunshine was the first and the last. I remember seeing her lifeless body at the bottom of her cage one morning. I remember burying her beside a tree sapling in the backyard, where I'd also buried a goldfish. Maybe a salamander.

Friday, March 01, 2013

Death to the Marchers

March 1. That fleeting tease of February all too quickly gives way to March.

And where does that leave us?

There has deliberately been fewer posts and less information here. To starve out the lurkers who really shouldn't be giving into curiosity by reading this space. But honestly, fuck those people. Fuck you, if you know who you are. Yeah, you.